


Midnight Radio

by brooklinegirl



Series: Assholes in Love [6]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:43:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklinegirl/pseuds/brooklinegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard babysits. (Part of the Assholes in Love series.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Radio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shiningartifact](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiningartifact/gifts).



> Thank you to mrsronweasley for the fabulous beta job! Or, well, three fabulous beta jobs in a row while I mouthbreathed at her, and for fixing things by taking away one letter, and for beta notes about poop. ILU.
> 
> This is for shiningartifact, because today is her birthday! I love you, Ms. C., and I love how much you loved Gerard in this universe, so I thought you might enjoy this, in the midst of your stressful week! Happy birthday, lady! I hope it is the BEST, because you deserve it. <3<3<3

"So listen," Frank says. "Friday night. Our moms are both busy, and Jamia's _this_ fucking close to signing this band."

"Okay?" Did they want him to come with Mikey? Maybe they thought he'd be the designated driver. That's no good. He's a terrible designated driver. 

"We need a sitter." Frank's eyeing Gerard where he's sitting on their living room floor with Emma in his lap.

Gerard doesn't know what that means. Does he want them to hold their seats at the club or something? He looks down at Emma for help. She gazes back at him, unconcerned, and makes a wild grab for his hair. 

"A _baby_ sitter," Jamia says patiently. "Can you stay with the kid while we do this? We won't pay you, but you can stay over after."

"Seriously?" Gerard says, blinking. 

"Seriously." The corners of Jamia's eyes crinkle, like they do when she thinks he's being funny. 

"I can do it!" Gerard says, his whole chest filling with delight. "You'll leave her with me? Alone?" This is huge. They trust him _so much_.

"It's just one night," Frank sounds a little uneasy. "We'll be home by, like, eleven." 

Jamia looks at him like he's nuts. "One," she corrects him. "Two, at the latest."

Frank looks worried, but he nods slowly. "Right. And she'll probably sleep for most of the time."

"I can do it," Gerard says again. Emma's got a fistful of his hair in her grip and she's not looking like she plans to let go anytime soon. Gerard doesn't try to extricate himself - he lets her tug him forward, and grins down at her. She stares up at him - he's pretty sure she's fascinated by his eye make-up. He's been working this look involving a lot of black eyeliner and shadow, trying to make his eyes look sunken, but also make them _pop_ \- and it seems to be working, from the way Emma stares up at him, clutching at his hair and making the occasional reach for his eyes. "Really, you guys. Trust me."

He looks up at them, which makes Emma tug on his hair, and she bursts into giggles, like he's done the most hilarious thing in the world.

"Right," Frank says again, slowly. "It's just that we've only ever-"

"He knows," Jamia says impatiently. " _Everyone_ knows that the only people we've left the kid with is our moms. It's time to branch out, Frank."

"Look." Gerard shifts Emma in his arms, bringing her up to rest against his shoulder. She has to let go of his hair as he moves her, but she makes a delighted snuffling noise as she pushes her whole face into his hair. He's pretty sure she's drooling in it. That's okay. He doesn't mind her drool. "She loves me. Me and her are like _this_. We get along. Right, E?"

Emma burps into his hair. 

"That means yes," Gerard explains, beaming at Frank and Jamia. He's _so_ got this.

"Right." Frank's biting his lip a little, like he's still thinking about it. 

What's to think about? Emma loves him. She's this warm weight in his arms, fitting perfectly up against his chest, and he can feel her little body moving as she breathes. Frank and Jamia have her in a onesie Mikey brought back from a gig in Vegas, that's yellow and has the Beatles logo on the front and a propeller printed on the back, and makes her into a Yellow Submarine.

Gerard really loves this kid. "Frankie," he says softly. "We'll have a great time."

"Okay." Jamia is beaming at him. "Thanks, Gerard, you're the best." She reaches down to scoop Emma out of his arms. 

Emma's somehow managed to get a hold of Gerard's hair while he was cuddling her. He loses a few strands as she gets pulled away.

"Ow," he says, giving her his best wounded look.

Emma just blows a spit bubble as she grins at him. She's on to him already.

"Friday night," Jamia says, holding Emma against her shoulder. "Doors are at seven, and I want to talk to these guys before, so we gotta be out of here by like five-thirty."

"Got it." Gerard nodded solemnly.

Emma's reaching for Jamia's hair now - she's got it up in pigtails, and one of them is _just_ out of Emma's reach. She kicks her feet, concentrating fiercely.

"It'll be easy," Jamia says. "I'll pump right before we go," she adds as an aside to Frank. "I'm gonna have to pump and dump at the club, too."

"Right," Frank says. "God, our lives got weird."

Jamia ignores him, turning back to Gerard. "You'll just have to feed her, and give her a bath, and get her to bed."

"...bath?" Gerard says faintly. Baths. He just - it seemed like a really bad idea. Baths are slippery, and _babies_ are slippery, and Emma always looks real clean no matter what, so he kind of doesn't get why she'll even need washing -

"She can maybe skip a night," Frank says hurriedly, looking at Gerard's face. 

Gerard gazes at him, relieved. He loves it when Frank just understands things without Gerard having to explain them.

"You know she'll get diaper rash," Jamia objects. "He'll be fine. Right, princess?"

Gerard sighs. "Okay," he says. "Sure."

"Ugh." Jamia wrinkles her nose as she looks down at Emma, who is still kicking her feet happily. "She pooped. Why are you so stinky, kid, huh?"

Frank's got his hands up, grinning widely. "I got the last one," he says. "She's all yours."

Jamia frowns down at Emma, who is being ridiculously cute, wriggling around and babbling, and oh man, Jamia's not wrong, Gerard can smell her from here. "Ugh," she says again. "Hey, wait. Maybe it's a good opportunity for Uncle Gee to practice his diaper-changing skills."

"I -" Gerard looks back and forth between the two of them. "I think that maybe -"

"You'll be with her all night," Frank says, pointing at him. "That's at least one poop. This is one regular kid. Come on. I'll show you how it goes."

Gerard sighs and gets to his feet. "Fine," he says. "Fine, I got this, what's a little poop between friends?" He can do this. It's just a diaper.

Jamia holds out Emma to him. "She stinks to high heaven," she tells him with a broad grin. 

Gerard takes her gingerly, while Emma crows with delight and grabs for his hair immediately. "Maybe I can bring Linds on Friday?" he suggests. "We could trade off, at least."

"That's a good idea." Frank looks really relieved. 

Gerard feels like he should maybe be a little offended, but Jamia is rolling her eyes at Frank and putting her arm around Gerard's waist, guiding him to the baby's room. 

"He's just nervous," Jamia tells him. "He was scared to be left alone with her for the first _month_."

"I don't have _boobs_ ," Frank says defensively. "And yours were _all she wanted_ for that first month."

"C'mon." Jamia ignores him, propping herself against the wall in the baby's room, arms crossed, big smile on her face. "Let's see how he does."

Gerard puts Emma down on the changing table and stares at her. She beams up at him, limbs flailing as he starts trying to get her onesie off. "You're not even helping," he says accusingly to Frank. 

Frank nudges the box of wipes closer, grinning. 

Gerard makes a sad face at him. "She's going to get poop all over my favorite onesie," he says sadly. 

Frank rolls his eyes, sighs. "Fine." He moves in, leaning over Emma's face from behind. She immediately buries both fists in _his_ hair, leaving Gerard with just two limbs and a dirty diaper to deal with. 

"This is why I don't want kids," he says, taking a deep breath and going in to unbutton the onesie.

"That's not what Lindsey says," Jamia says from beside him.

Gerard looks up, startled, just as he's gotten the diaper undone. The stench is truly something, and it's only a very, very quick grab that stops Emma's foot from landing right in the mess. "Lindsey talked about kids?"

Jamia tilts her head. "Talk to your wife about this," she says. "Not me."

"Right." Gerard looks down at Emma, in all her disgusting glory. Kids. Him and Lindsey. He just - he didn't - He shakes his head. "Right," he says again, firmly. "Gimme those wipes. I got this."

***

Gerard hitches his bag up further over his shoulder and rings the bell. He's ready. He's got his iPod loaded with music (he's been wanting to work more on Emma's musical education), he'd slept until noon, and he'd smoked his last cigarette of the night an hour ago. He's _ready_.

Frank swings the door open and Gerard feels his jaw drop. "Holy shit, Frankie," he breathes.

Frank makes a face at him. "Shut the fuck up and get in here," he says.

Gerard does, stumbling over the doorstep a little bit because he can't stop staring. Frank had gotten his hair cut a lot shorter after the baby was born, and it's not styled, usually, and it isn't even tonight, not really, but he's definitely got product in it, and it definitely looks _good_ \- sort of rough and hot, all at the same time. And Jesus Christ - he's wearing a white button down shirt, rumpled, untucked over his jeans, with a black skinny tie. 

"You know I have a thing for the skinny tie," Gerard says helplessly, letting his backpack slide off his shoulder and hit the floor.

Frank rolls his eyes, but he's smiling a little bit. "What," he says, shrugging. "It's a look, okay?"

Jamia appears in the doorway, holding Emma, and comes up behind Frank, sliding one hand around the side of his hip in this proprietary way that just gets Gerard going like nobody's business. She kisses the side of Frank's neck, right over the scorpion tattoo, and grins at Gerard over his shoulder. "I have a thing for the skinny tie, too," she tells Gerard, dropping a wink at him.

"Right?" Gerard says weakly. Damn, Frank just looks so fucking _good_.

Jamia comes over to Gerard, giving him a kiss on the cheek and pushing the baby into his arms. Emma looks up at him a little dubiously for a second, which is weird, until Gerard realizes he's still wearing the giant sunglasses he'd stolen from Mikey, who'd stolen them from his girlfriend. 

He pushes them up to the top of his head. Emma breaks out into this totally golden smile when she sees his face, which makes his whole chest fill up with happiness.

Then she gets a determined look on her face and starts reaching for the sunglasses, straining up towards his face with her whole body.

"She's got good taste," Gerard says, gazing down at her as she manages to get her fingers hooked in the sunglasses. She drags them down his face, poking him in the eye and getting them caught in his hair at the same time. He laughs and carefully untangles them from her grasp.

"Right?" Jamia says. 

She's watching him with the baby, and when he looks up, his gaze gets caught on her rack and stays there for maybe half a beat too long. Which is plenty long enough for Jamia to be laughing at him by the time he manages to yank his eyes up to her face. "Sorry," he says, feeling his face flush. Ugh, he hates being such a _caveman_ sometimes. "I didn't - I mean, I wasn't - I mean -" He stops, takes a breath, and moves his head back a little out of Emma's flailing, reaching limbs. "You look really good," he finishes firmly. 

Jamia's curves have only gotten _better_ since she had the baby, and every thing about her looks _luscious_. She's all in black - a swingy skirt, with boots that go up to her knees, and a top that hugs every single one of her curves in the best possible way, and the cleavage isn't obscene, but it has _impact_. She's still nursing and her breasts are just - they're - 

Oh God, he's staring again. "What is _wrong_ with me?" he says, putting one hand over his face. "Sorry, J. You know I respect you as a person."

"I do know that." 

She's totally laughing at him. Frank is, too. Gerard glances down and he's pretty sure Emma is, as well. His face is hot, but he can't stop himself from smiling. It never feels _mean_ when they do it. It's more like they're in it together. He sighs, and shifts the baby in his arms. "You've got hot parents," he informs her.

Emma mouthbreathes at him solemnly. 

"Okay," Frank says, all business. "Listen up."

Gerard looks up at Frank, paying careful attention. 

"There are two bottles in the fridge - give her one in about an hour, and if she's whiny or anything later, you can give her another half in about an hour after that."

"She's a little piglet lately," Jamia says, putting her hand on Emma's head. 

"Right." Gerard sort of wants to be able to take notes, but he's got his hands full of baby.

"Bedtime starts at seven-thirty," Frank continues. "It can take a while to get through everything and get her calm. We usually give her a bath at about six-thirty-" He breaks off, looking at Gerard. "Is Lindsey coming?"

Gerard nods several times in a row. She is, thank God. "She had a thing," he says. "But she'll be here in like forty-five minutes."

"Good." Frank looks about as relieved as Gerard feels. "Bath time is easier with two people. Baby tub is right next to the bathtub, and she likes the penguin toy the best. He squeaks," he explains to Gerard. "It's her favorite part."

Gerard can understand that. "Got it."

"Diaper change right before bed, put her in the sleep sack, she goes down on her back, no toys in the crib." His voice gets all serious.

"Jeez," Gerard says to Emma. "He thinks he's the only one who's been reading _What to Expect the First Year_." He looks back up at Frank. "I'm wounded."

"Yeah, well." Frank starts to push his hand into his hair, then stops himself. Yep, definitely styled. "I'm just making sure."

"He's got it," Jamia says, putting her arm around Frank's waist. "You've got it, right?" 

"Yes," Gerard says, Jamia's matter-of-fact tone suddenly making him feel uncertain for some reason. She's got a lot of faith in him. He doesn't want to fuck this up. 

Emma's gazing up at him, looking more confident than he feels. 

"All right." Jamia comes up to him, bends in to kiss Emma's cheek. She smells _amazing_ , and Gerard gets a sudden desire to bury his face in her hair. "You guys have a fun night, okay?"

She kisses Gerard on the cheek, too, and Gerard grins into her hair. "We will."

Frank comes up and Gerard tilts his head obediently for a kiss. Frank snorts and shoves a piece of paper into his hand, where it's clutching Emma's butt. "I know you have our numbers, but here's my mom's, J's mom, J's brother, my aunt, and the club we're gonna be at."

"Right," Gerard says, trying to look sure of himself. 

Frank does the aborted hand-move of going to run his hand through his hair again. He still looks worried. "Worst-case, call Mikey," he says. "He'll fuckin' know someone who knows someone who can, I don't know, fix _anything_."

Gerard nods. "I _always_ call Mikey when I get in trouble."

Frank's concerned face is getting worse. Gerard hitches Emma up more securely, and leans in to kiss Frank's cheek, since Frank clearly is too distracted to kiss his. "Frankie," he says softly. "I got this. I promise. We'll be fine."

"Okay," Frank says, stumbling a little as Jamia grabs his arm and starts dragging him toward the door. "Call with anything! I've got my phone on."

"He _knows_ , you psycho," Jamia says. "Come _on_ , let's _go_ , there are shots waiting, and I gotta schmooze this band before their set." 

"In bed by eight," Frank calls over his shoulder. "Put her on her ba-"

The door slams shut behind them and Emma giggles up at him as Gerard makes wide, tragic eyes at her. "Your daddy doesn't trust me, I don't think," he tells her.

Emma just blows a spit bubble and shoves her hand into his mouth.

***

Things start off strong - he puts her down on a blanket on the floor, because his arms are aching with holding her, and gets down there with her. They hang out on the floor for a while, Emma making high-pitched noises like she's really trying to get her point across, and making grabs for his hair whenever she can. She's in a black romper tonight, covered with imprints of little hearts, and Gerard really likes the crossed dynamic of gender norms.

She's got a floor play-thing that arches over her with toys dangling from it, and it's supposed to keep her entertained, but Gerard prefers one-on-one interaction with her. They spent a while solemnly passing her squishy cow toy back and forth. She's got this floor thing _down_ \- last time he was over, she was just getting the hang of rolling over, and tonight, she's going from tummy to back like it's her _job_. 

She hasn't quite gotten as good at back to tummy, so he helps her out a little, and her delighted face at finding herself exactly where she had planned to be is a fucking picture. He loves the hell out of this kid.

When they both get bored of the rolling thing, he gets up and plugs his iPod in to Frank's dock. "Okay," he says seriously, as he scoops her up. "Are you ready to dance?"

She looks dubious, but game. 

"Because that is the main thing you do," he tells her. "When your parents aren't home, and you need to just get your feelings out." It's something she clearly agrees with, because she's bouncing a little in his arms. He dances her around the living room, singing along and making goofy faces at her, and she's laughing. It's just bubbling up out of her, and he'd laugh too, if he wasn't so breathless from all the dancing. He's doing one last twirl with her, singing out, "...punk, punk, punk rocker!" when the doorbell rings. 

He clutches Emma to his chest. "It's Lindsey!" he whispers at her, like he's telling her a secret.

She looks appropriately excited.

Gerard is sweaty and panting when he answers the door, Emma in his arms. Lindsey is outside, looking beyond fucking gorgeous. Her hair is down and messy, and she's grinning at both him and Emma. His heart catches in his throat, and he wonders if he'll ever get used to this, ever get used to the fact that she married him. That he's married. To _her_. 

"Hey," she says, kissing him. "Hey to you, too, Ms. Emma." She comes in and pushes the door shut behind her. He hands Emma over when Lindsey makes grabby hands. 

"You're all sweaty," she says to Gerard as she sits down on the couch, holding Emma so she can stand, balancing her feet on Lindsey's knees. 

"We were dancing," he explains, still a little out of breath.

"Excellent," she says, as Emma bounces excitedly, her little fat legs going up and down, like they're still listening to the Ramones, even though Gerard's iPod has switched to Morrissey plaintively asking to please, please, please get what he wants. "How was the dancing?" she asks Emma. "Was it good? Is Gee taking good care of you?"

Emma bounces harder, and Lindsey laughs. "I can see that you had some fun."

"Yup." Gerard slumps down beside Lindsey, worn-out now from all the activity, and wonders if it's close to bedtime. When he sneaks a look at the clock, he sees it's only six-fifteen. Oh God.

"Okay," Lindsey studies Emma's face. "You hungry?"

"There's a bottle in the fridge," Gerard says. 

"I can heat it up," Lindsey says. "You hang with your Uncle Gee, okay, Em?" 

She puts Emma into Gerard's arms and heads to the kitchen. Emma flails out all her limbs like she's a starfish and garbles something up at Gerard's face, loud and intent. He stares down at her, wondering at her energy level. This is gonna be a long night.

***

They give her the bottle, but she's super distracted by everything - Gerard's hair, Lindsey's necklace - and only drinks about half. She gets it everywhere, too, because she keeps flailing around and ends up with milk crusted in all of her neck folds, which is more adorable than you might think, Gerard notes to Lindsey.

"Bath time," Lindsey responds firmly.

Gerard gnaws on his fingernail. "Uh." 

"Here." Lindsey takes the kid from him. "You go fill the baby tub."

"Right," he says nervously, and goes to do so. 

It takes a few tries to get it right - too cold, too hot, Gerard doesn't know what the right temperature is for babies. Lindsey tests it when she comes in with a wriggling, naked Emma in her arms, and calls it good. 

Gerard hovers nervously behind Lindsey as she washes Emma. "Careful," he keeps saying. "Just - watch her head. There's - oh God, careful with the _soap_." 

Lindsey keeps up a running dialogue with Emma, mostly about what a scaredy-cat Gerard is, and doesn't let Gerard's warnings distract her, which is good, Gerard supposes. The scariest part is when Lindsey lifts her out, and Gerard is the one with the towel, in charge of wrapping Emma up and not dropping her. It's kind of fucking terrifying, and he ends up clutching her awkwardly. He's more wet than she by the time he's got her clutched firmly against his chest in a wriggling, damp bundle.

They bring her in to the nursery, and Gerard puts a new diaper on her - pretty fucking expertly, if he does say so himself. Lindsey blows kisses on her belly while Gerard looks through the onesies and chooses the one with the Union Jack on it. They put her in it and admire her for a while, while she stares up at them quizzically from the changing table, like she's wondering a little bit who left them in charge. 

"She's really fucking cute," Lindsey says, scooping her up after they manage to get her into her sleep sack. 

"She's kind of the greatest." Gerard tilts his head, watching Lindsey hold her. He thinks about what it would be like if it was their own baby that they made together. He thinks about Lindsey, round and soft, everything warm and fucking _alive_ , the way Jamia had been when she was pregnant with Emma. He thinks about getting to fuck Lindsey with intent, coming deep inside her, and then he quickly shakes his head hard, to distract himself. These are not appropriate thoughts to be having while babysitting.

"Okay." Lindsey deposits Emma in Gerard's arms, and gives him a nudge towards the rocking chair in the corner of the room. "I'm gonna go heat up the bedtime bottle. You guys hang out."

Emma's already blinking a little sleepily - Gerard thinks the bottle will put her right out. He rocks her a little, and she looks up at him, her face all scrunched up in confusion, like she just now realized he's neither Frank nor Jamia. She whimpers a little, and he rocks her some more, hoping to stem the tide before it hits. "I miss them, too, kid, but they'll be back, I promise."

Promises don’t mean much in Emma's world, because whimpers turn into these hitching, breathy sobs that kind of break his fucking heart. "It's okay," he says. His voice comes out kind of hollow and nervous, and he swallows and tries again. "It's okay, there's gonna be a bottle, and a bottle pretty much always makes things better." 

Emma, apparently, disagrees. She starts to sob harder, her tiny body shaking with it. A bottle is probably no good next to Jamia's boobs. Gerard can't argue with that. 

"Linds!" he calls out, maybe a little desperately. Emma's body gives a start when he yells, and she begins to _wail_. Her face is red with crying, actual _tears_ streaking her cheeks, and her hands are clenched in fierce tiny fists against her chest, her legs kicking against his arm. She's miserable and wailing, and he's up off the chair before he knows it, pacing the room, anxiously staring down into her sad little face. He can't do this. He doesn't know what to _do_. "It's okay," he says, but his voice comes out high and anxious and anything but comforting, even to his own ears. "It's okay, dude, shh, I'm here, it's-" 

It's anything _but_ okay and he's afraid to call for Lindsey again, in case he scares Emma even more. He just holds her closer against his chest, his hands all sweaty, and sways with her, but it's not working, not at _all_. She's crying _so hard_ , and he is pretty much the _worst person_ , and if he had a hand free, he'd be getting his phone out to text Mikey, and -

"I was gone for five minutes." Lindsey stands in the doorway with a bottle in her hand, staring at them. "What _happened_ to you two?"

Gerard stops, his heart beating wildly with relief, even though Emma is still weeping hopelessly against his chest. "Oh thank God you're back."

"Here." Lindsey guides him to sit back down, and Gerard does, his knees weak and unsteady. She hands him the bottle, and he grabs it, but can't quite figure out how to get it into Emma's mouth, not while she's is crying so hard she's breathing in huge gasps. Lindsey kneels in front of both of them, stroking Emma's sweaty head and crooning to her. Finally, Emma calms down enough to see the bottle in Gerard's hands, hovering uncertainly near her mouth. She reaches out for it, still weeping, but she's calmed down enough to take it when he puts it in her mouth.

The sudden silence in the nursery almost makes Gerard's ears pop. He takes in a shaky breath. 

"It's okay," Lindsey says softly to him. "Gee, she's fine."

She reaches up and wipes his face off with her fingers. He hadn't quite realized that he'd been crying, too. 

"She was just so _sad_." He looks down at Emma's flushed face, her eyes shut, her eyelashes long and dark against her cheeks, her dark hair sticking up in sweaty spikes. "She was so sad, and it didn't matter that I was here, and there was nothing I could _do_ , and -" He blinks several times in a row, feeling like he wants to cry all over again. 

Lindsey's still kneeling in front of him, one hand on Emma's belly. She's looking up at him sympathetically, and he's so, so fucking happy she's here. 

Emma's still occasionally taking in a shuddering breath around the bottle, but going back to drinking immediately after. She's definitely slowing down, though - she hasn't even drunk that much. It's a small bottle, and it's not even half-empty, but she's content, now, her fists unclenched. 

"I think she's done," Lindsey whispers, after a couple of minutes, and when Gerard carefully pulls the bottle away, Emma stays slack in his arms, breathing milky bubbles, and blinking up at him, slow and sleepy. 

Lindsey turns off the light, turns on the nightlight near the crib. "Just hold her for a few more minutes, maybe?" 

Gerard nods, his arms and shoulders aching a little - she's a tiny thing, but solid - and does, rocking slow and careful. Emma's eyes look absolutely huge, almost all pupil, and she blinks more and more slowly. Her tiny, damp hand is curled against his where it rests on her chest, like they're holding hands, kind of. 

When it looks like she's out, he gets up really, really slowly, exchanging nervous looks with Lindsey. The side of the crib is already down, but the process of leaning over and trying to put Emma down without disturbing this tenuous peace they've achieved is like a fucking military maneuver. 

Emma's legs flail in the sack for a second, and she makes a loud anxious sound. Gerard freezes, bent over the crib, his back aching sharply, but he's afraid to move. Emma snorts and quiets, and he swiftly lays her down in one movement, like disarming a bomb. She settles down immediately and he feels like a god. 

Lindsey mouths _wow_ at him in the dimness of the nursery, and the two of them ease back up to standing, watching Emma the whole time. Lindsey is brave enough to raise the side of the crib, slowly, slowly, the slide of the wood and the click as it locks into place sounding really fucking loud, but Emma doesn't even twitch. 

They back out of the room together, bumping into each other, and clutching hands. Gerard knows his is clammy - he feels like he's entirely covered with flop sweat, his pits and hairline damp with it - but they make it out, easing the door closed behind them. 

"Oh God," Gerard breathes out, as they stagger to the living room and collapse down on the couch. "It's over. She's down."

Lindsey is giggling almost silently, her hand clapped over her mouth. She slumps up against him, pressing her face against his chest. "That was - Jesus, how do people _do_ this every day?"

"I don't know." Gerard has even more sincere fucking admiration for Frank and Jamia than he did before. "How do they even _function_?"

He wraps his arms more tightly around Lindsey. His eyes are burning with exhaustion. He needs a smoke. He needs a _drink_. He doesn't get to do either of those things until Frank and Jamia get home. He whimpers just the tiniest bit into Lindsey's hair, and she tilts her face up and kisses him.

"You did real good, Gee," she says softly against his lips. 

"I want to die," he whispers back.

She starts laughing against his chest, and he does too. He holds onto her tight there on the couch, feeling wrung-out and dazed and completely fucking amazing, all at the same time.

***

Gerard sits straight up when the front door opens, or he tries to, but Lindsey is asleep half on top of him on the couch, drooling against his chest. He nudges her and she mumbles a little, but they both manage to push themselves up, looking bleary-eyed over the back of the couch, as Frank and Jamia peer in to the living room.

"How'd it go?" Jamia asks, her eyes bright. "You survive? She can be kind of a tyrant."

She sounds nothing but proud, and Gerard nods, scrubbing one hand through his hair and yawns, trying to wake up. He feels like he could sleep for about a hundred more years. "She was awesome," he says through the yawn. "We had a good time. I didn't have to call anyone."

"Did she eat enough?" Frank asks. He's got one arm around Jamia's shoulders, hanging on to her a little as he slumps up against the doorway. His hair is all messed up, his tie dangling open, his shirt wrinkled with sweat. He looks wrecked, and a little drunk. "Did you give her a bath? Did she go down okay?"

"She went through both bottles," Gerard says. "And Lindsey washed her. I was in charge of drying. I didn't drop her," he adds quickly.

Lindsey leans up against him. "They both cried at bedtime."

Jamia's eyes get even brighter. "Seriously?"

"She was really upset, okay? It broke my fucking heart." Gerard says it defensively, but Frank eyes get all wide and Gerard knows he gets it. 

"I'm gonna check on her," Frank says, pushing himself off the wall. 

Jamia glances at the clock on the wall. "She should wake up soon," she says. "Hungry." She presses her hands against her boobs, making a face. "Moo," she adds.

Gerard thinks it's magical and amazing that Jamia can do this, can feed her baby directly from her body. 

"You doing okay?" Jamia makes her way over to the easy chair, sits down, unzipping her boots and hauling them off. She wriggles her toes in her mismatched socks after, sighing happily. 

"Fuckin' tired," Gerard says. His whole body hurts.

"Yup." Jamia leans back in the chair, glancing over her shoulder as a thin wail comes from Emma's nursery. "There she goes."

It's like a fucking shot to Gerard's heart again, but thank God, he's not in charge anymore. 

Frank comes out with Emma whimpering in his arms. The light in the living room is dim, but Emma is still blinking sleepily against it, her face a thundercloud. "She's a cranky girl," Frank says softly, depositing her in Jamia's arms.

"I can fix that," Jamia says. She pulls her shirt up and unhooks the cup to her nursing bra. Emma quiets down immediately, latching on with vast skill. 

Lindsey nudges Gerard to stop staring, but he's not staring, he's just _watching_ , and Jamia doesn't mind. She'd said so, when he'd asked the first time. 

Frank slides off the arm of the couch to sit beside Gerard and Lindsey. "So," he says, running his hand through his hair, his legs sprawled out loosely. "Tell me what she did."

"We played on the floor," Gerard says obediently. "She practiced rolling over."

"She's getting real good at it," Frank says. "She just needs a little help from getting from her back to her front-"

"But only a little!" Gerard interjects. 

"She's clearly a rolling savant," Jamia says. Emma's hand is resting against Jamia's breast, opening and closing slowly. Emma's eyes are shut and her whole face looks dreamy as she nurses. 

"Then we listened to some music," Gerard continues. "And she ate, and pooped, and we cleaned her up, and-" He waves his hands around. "It went by real fast and real slow at the same time."

Frank nods tiredly. "Welcome to parenthood."

"Did _you_ guys have fun, Frankie?" Gerard asks. Frank looks really good like this, all sort of disheveled. He looked good all put together before he left, but right now, he's got this dissolute thing going on that makes Gerard want to sketch him, all loose limbs and easy openness.

"It was motherfucking awesome," Frank says, looking over at Jamia, who just smiles down at Emma's head. "The band was tight, and we were comped all night at the bar."

"Benefits of being married to me," Jamia says smugly. "And _he_ was comped all night at the bar. I was in charge of driving, and this." She nods down at the baby against her breast.

"And the band fucking signed with her." Frank is obviously going for casual, but his voice rings with pride. 

"Fuck yeah, they did," Jamia says, and her smile when she looks up at them is pretty fucking glorious. 

"You're awesome," Gerard says, leaning back against Lindsey on the couch. She is. They both are. He's so fucking lucky, with his friends and his wife and his motherfucking _life_. "That's so great. Mikey said you'd get them on board tonight. He never doubted you for a second."

Jamia beams at him. Emma is slowing down, but still stubbornly latched on, going at it with renewed vigor when Jamia strokes one finger down her cheek. Jamia looks like an Earth Mother there, or a punk rock version of it, her dark messy hair tangled and gorgeous, her whole body curved protectively towards her daughter as she feeds her.

"Thank you, guys," Frank says in that sincere way he gets when he's a little bit past tipsy. "Tonight was awesome. I wouldn't have wanted to miss it." He pats Gerard's knee. "You want a beer?"

"Oh God, yes," Gerard says immediately. He wants a smoke too, real fucking bad. His fingers are twitching with it. 

Frank hauls himself up off the couch, and Gerard follows. 

"Get me one too," Jamia says. "She's almost out, here."

The four of them end up out on the back porch, drinking beers, almost like old times, except for the baby monitor propped up on the old kitchen table they keep out back. Frank had quit smoking when Jamia did, back when she first got pregnant, but when he brings out a second round of beers, he ends up sharing one of Gerard's smokes with him, just a couple of drags as he leans against the porch railing.

Gerard watches him breathe the smoke into the night air, thinks about how Frank is a _daddy_ , and how it should maybe still be weird, but it isn't. "What's weird," he says, forgetting that Frank can't follow his train of thought, "is how I can't remember you _not_ being a dad. You know?"

Frank lays an arm heavily across Gerard's shoulders. "I know, dude. I can't even remember what it was like before. Or at least, I don't want to. You know?" 

Gerard rests his head against Frank's shoulder in agreement. He knows.

There's snuffling coming from the baby monitor, but she's quiet - definitely down for the count. Jamia's breasts did the trick. 

Jamia comes over with her bottle of beer held loosely in one hand, surveys the two of them. Frank grins at her around Gerard's cigarette between his teeth. "You," he says to her. "You're pretty great."

"You're pretty drunk," she says, sliding up under his other arm and stealing the cigarette for a quick puff.

"Yeah," he agrees, as Gerard moves away, grabbing his beer and heading over to where Lindsey is straddling the stool by the table, watching them all with a smile on her face.

"Hey," he says, coming up to stand between her legs. She tilts her head up for a kiss, and he gives her one, her lips soft and warm against his. She tastes like beer and the night air.

"You guys are pretty cute, you know," she says softly, nodding over at where Frank and Jamia are cuddling against the railing. "They really love you."

"I really love them," Gerard says. "And you." He does. His heart is fucking full tonight, and his eyes fill up again, for a second. He blinks the tears away. "I'm lucky. You guys saved my life. All of you."

"And Emma," Lindsey says, resting her head against his chest.

"And Emma," he agrees. That kid. He'd never wanted kids, not until Frank and Jamia created this fucking amazing person. He knows he's not as together as they are, but Lindsey is fierce and steady, and when he looks at her, he wants it. He wants a baby, with her. He couldn't do it by himself, but together, they'd be amazing.

"Hey." Lindsey curls her fingers around his. 

"Yeah?" Gerard presses his face against her hair. It smells earthy and sweet. 

"Can I have the rest of your beer?" She's snagging it out of his hand even as she asks.

He smiles against her hair and she giggles, nudging him back so she can take a swig. The kiss she gives him afterward is beery and sweet, her head tilted back, her arms around him, the beer bottle cool through the fabric of his t-shirt. 

God, he loves his girl. 

the end


End file.
